


the more that you want it (the more that you need it)

by symphony7inAmajor



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, does this qualify for this tag?, perhaps!, we need more fic of elias being just a horny motherfucker okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphony7inAmajor/pseuds/symphony7inAmajor
Summary: Somewhere along the line, Elias startsnoticing thingsabout Brock.He might be a little bit infatuated.(he's got a handle on it, right?)





	the more that you want it (the more that you need it)

**Author's Note:**

> for prompt 34. The feel of fingers brushing together by accident from [this](https://heir-to-the-diamond-throne.tumblr.com/post/151164415366/64-sensory-prompts) prompt list. requested by my friend who said "can it be horny" and i said "yeah."
> 
> being gay be like: you have a hand kink. that is all.
> 
> title from "in the heat of the moment" by noel gallagher's high flying birds

Somewhere along the line, Elias starts _ noticing things _ about Brock.

He’s not really sure when it first happens, honestly. Maybe after a comment about _ The Flow _makes him really stop and think about it, then realizing how much he wants to get his hands in Brock’s hair. Or when Brock pulls him in for a celly while he’s on his knees and Elias can’t stop thinking about that position under very different circumstances. Or even when Brock squeezes the back of his neck, telling him to, “Relax, Petey, why’re you so tense?” and he has to try not to shiver. Or when—

Well. 

Elias might be a little bit infatuated, is all. It’s no big deal. He’s fine. He can handle it.

Besides, he’s hardly the only person who thinks Brock is hot. If that were the case, people wouldn’t be all over him literally every time they go out. It’s not like Brock ever goes home with them where Elias has to see it, so. There’s no problem. Just evidence that Elias is totally normal as far as being attracted to Brock goes. He’s very definitely not alone in _ that _ regard.

Elias is pretty sure he’s got a good handle on it.

“Brock!” Jake says, reaching over to fistbump Brock in his stall. They just won, and Brock scored a beautiful goal off of a pass from Elias. Elias is only sort of paying attention to the conversation beside him, too busy picking at his skate laces to really listen, but he does catch bits and pieces. Most notably, he hears Jake says, “great hands, bro,” before he returns to his own stall.

Automatically, Elias flicks his eyes over to look at Brock’s hands. 

They look the same as always, probably, but Elias has never really _ noticed _ them before. He’s sure noticing now. 

Brock’s hands are strong, his veins close to the surface of his skin after the exertion of the game and his fingers nimble as he takes off his gear.

Elias’s mouth feels too dry, his fingers suddenly stiff on his laces. He looks away quickly, swallows hard.

Something knocks against his knee and he glances up to see Brock pressing their legs together. 

“Hey,” Brock says, still smiling a little with the energy from the win. “You okay?” 

“Huh?” Elias blinks, confused, then notices he’s been worrying at the same knot on his skates for way too long. He flushes, embarrassed. “Sorry, uh. Got distracted, I guess.” 

Brock flashes him a lopsided grin, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. Elias tries not to stare at the flex of his arm muscles, the curl of his fingers as he slides them through his hair. He probably fails. He also fails at not thinking about what Brock’s fingers would feel like in his hair. Brock’s forehead wrinkles.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Brock asks, his expression changing into one of concern. 

Elias finally gets his skate off, scowling. 

“I’m _ fine,” _ he snaps. He feels bad about it immediately and Brock looks distressingly like a kicked puppy.

“Okay,” Brock says softly. He looks like he wants to say something else, but instead he stands up and finishes taking his pads off before media is let in. 

Elias catches up to Brock in the parking lot, wincing at Brock’s hunched shoulders.

He hurries to get in step with Brock, bumping their shoulders together. Brock looks at him, confused. 

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Elias says, keeping his voice low so it doesn’t echo in the silence of the parking garage. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No,” Brock agrees. He squints at Elias and lets him feel bad for a moment, then his face breaks into a smile. Elias relaxes. Brock never stays angry for long, especially with Elias. “It’s okay. I was just worried about you.”

“Thank you,” Elias says. Brock grins. “Hey, do you want to come over? Watch a movie with me or something, let me make it up to you.” He keeps his eyes steady on Brock’s, trying not to sound like he’s implying anything. That’s why he notices the shift in Brock’s expression, the way his eyebrow twitches, his eyes darkening slightly. 

“Sure,” Brock says, all casual. He looks away, ostensibly glancing around for his car. 

Elias frowns. Brock’s car is barely ten feet away, why should—Elias catches sight of the way Brock’s ears are pink and bites his tongue. 

“Cool,” Elias says, trying to copy the way Brock sounds so casual. “See you there.” He makes it to his own car before burying his face in his hands and letting out a weird squeaky noise. He scrubs his palms over his face and takes a deep breath. This is fine. It’s totally, totally fine. 

Elias thinks about the way Brock had looked at him when Elias had promised to _ make it up to him. _ He bites his lip, worrying at the skin with his teeth. _ Fuck. _

Before Elias decides to lose his mind in a parking garage, he shifts the car into gear and gets the hell out of there. 

He manages to beat Brock back to his place, but he waits for him outside. When Brock gets out of his car and sees Elias waiting for him, he laughs delightedly and jogs over.

“You waited for me?” he asks, voice gently teasing.

“Only for a few minutes,” Elias grumbles. “Shut up.” 

“Aww,” Brock says, smiling a softer sort of smile. Elias holds his gaze for a beat, then he has to look away, his face hot. “Cute,” he thinks he hears Brock say. His face burns hotter and he turns, leading Brock inside.

Brock catches up easily and gets the door for Elias, mock-bowing as Elias passes, rolling his eyes. Elias does _ not _ check out the way Brock’s hand closes over the door handle, breezing through the door and hurrying up to his apartment.

He tries to ignore the way Brock is tapping out an aimless rhythm against the handrails in the elevator. Another distraction that he really doesn’t need right now.

Brock flops onto the couch as soon as he’s kicked off his shoes, making himself comfortable. 

“Sure, get comfortable,” Elias says. “Don’t worry about helping me.” 

Brock twists around to watch him as he goes into the kitchen. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks.

“Well,” Elias says, “nothing.” He smirks. “But you could’ve asked first.” 

Brock just sticks his tongue out at him before picking up the remotes. Elias searches his cupboards for the popcorn, putting a bag in the microwave before hopping up to sit on the counter to wait for it to cook.

“What’re you in the mood for?” Brock asks. He looks over at Elias, something unreadable in his face.

“Um,” Elias says. He bites his lip again, notices Brock noticing. “Anything, I guess.”

“So I pick?” 

“It’s up to you,” Elias says. He has the strangest feeling that they’re not talking about movies anymore, but Brock turns back to the TV and starts scrolling through the selection. Elias sighs shakily, as quiet as he can be, then shakes himself off and gets the popcorn out of the microwave. He pours it into a bowl while Brock picks a movie—looks like some kind of cheesy rom-com.

“Ready?” Brock asks.

“Ready.”

Elias turns out the light and sits beside Brock. He places the bowl of popcorn on the couch between them as Brock presses play. Elias glances over just once to see Brock watching him, his face lit with blue from the TV screen on one side and obscured by shadow on the other. Elias swallows hard and turns to watch the movie, grabbing a handful of popcorn. 

The movie hasn’t been on long when Elias reaches for some popcorn at the same time as Brock. 

His fingers brush against Brock’s, their knuckles knocking together, and he notices that Brock’s hands are just as warm as he’d expected. His breath catches in his chest and he pulls his hand away. Or, he tries to pull away.

Before he can move more than an inch, Brock catches his hand. He curls his fingers loosely around Elias’s, loosely enough that Elias could easily yank his hand back if he wanted to. Elias stiffens. 

“Tell me I’m reading this wrong,” Brock whispers. He brushes his thumb over the back of Elias’s knuckles, making goosebumps rise on his skin. “Tell me to stop and I will.” Elias feels like he can’t breathe, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Brock’s hand loosens a little. “Are you—”

“You’re not wrong,” Elias blurts. “Please don’t stop.”

“Oh, thank god,” Brock says, and his hand tightens around Elias’s again and he pulls Elias closer. 

The bowl of popcorn tips onto the floor with a clatter. They both ignore it. Brock lets go of Elias’s hand to catch him around the waist and haul him into his lap. Elias twitches. He knows Brock is strong—he’s hardly a feeble old lady himself—but somehow it’s different when that strength is being used to move him around instead of weights. 

Elias looks down at Brock from his position on Brock’s thighs. He can feel the heat in his face, the warmth building in his stomach. The fluttery feeling in his chest. He and Brock look at each other for one heartbeat. Another. Then, almost at the same instant that Brock reaches to pull him down, Elias leans in and they kiss.

It’s a little messy, uncoordinated, but they figure it out quickly and Elias buries his fingers in Brock’s hair like he’s wanted to for so long. Brock runs his hands up and down Elias’s back, then curls his hands loosely around Elias’s hips.

They kiss long and slow, Brock’s fingers slipping under the hem of Elias’s shirt and stroking the skin above his waistband. His palms are warm and dry, his calluses rough from a lifetime of holding a hockey stick. He pushes his thumbs against Elias’s hipbones and nips at his lower lip. Elias makes a truly embarrassing noise and pulls back, breathing hard. 

“Too much?” Brock asks, voice carefully steady. Elias can tell that it’s an act, though. Brock’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes dark and his breath coming faster than usual. He loosens his grip on Elias’s hips, like he thinks Elias might want to stop.

Elias shakes his head, too fast, maybe. 

“It’s just,” Elias pauses, unsure how to continue, “I’ve wanted this for a while,” he settles on eventually. He ducks his head. “I like you a lot.” Elias licks his lips. “It’s more than, um. More than just _ this, _ for me.” He bites at his lower lip nervously, then looks back at Brock to check his reaction. 

Brock is smiling at him, a warm, happy expression. He brushes his thumb over Elias’s mouth until he stops chewing on his lip.

“Me too,” Brock says. “I really like you, too. I want to, like, date you.” His smile brightens at the relief on Elias’s face, and his thumb presses distractedly against Elias’s lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to making out some more, though,” he says, exaggeratedly thoughtful.

Elias bites his thumb. _ Gently. _

Brock laughs at the look Elias gives him, then Elias drags his tongue up of Brock’s thumb, staring him in the eyes the whole time. Elias can tell that Brock is trying very hard not to show that it’s getting to him. Elias narrows his eyes, challenging, then Brock pushes his thumb into his mouth. 

Elias makes a muffled noise and tries not to bite Brock’s thumb off out of surprise. 

Brock presses his thumb down against Elias’s tongue, watching his face the whole time. Elias shudders, fisting his hands in Brock’s shirt and trying to pull him closer. Brock slides his free hand under Elias’s shirt and up his back, spreading his fingers out and pulling Elias in. 

“Okay?” Brock asks, his voice barely louder than a whisper. 

Elias nods shakily, trying to keep his hips from rocking against Brock. He can feel that Brock is at least half-hard—it’d be difficult not to notice, considering that Elias is pretty much sitting on his dick—but he’s not sure if that’s where they’re going today. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of Brock’s finger in his mouth, then he tries to remember everything he knows about blowjobs and applies it on Brock’s thumb. 

“Oh.” Brock sounds sort of strangled. “God.”

Elias opens his eyes and lets Brock’s thumb slip out of his mouth. Brock is staring at him, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. Elias stares at his mouth as Brock’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Not, like, to move too fast,” Brock says, voice a bit wobbly, “but, uh—”

“Yes,” Elias blurts, then Brock stands up. Elias squeaks, which is frankly humiliating but he’s too turned on to care. He clutches at Brock’s shoulders and Brock holds him up by his thighs, fingers digging into Elias’s skin. “I think it’s, um. Hot. When you do that,” Elias whispers and Brock almost falls down, keeping them from tumbling to the floor by pushing Elias up against the wall. Elias tightens his legs around Brock’s waist.

“You can’t just _ say _ that,” Brock says, kind of whiny. 

Elias laughs breathlessly, toying with the hair at the nape of Brock’s neck.

“It’s true,” he says, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. 

Brock shakes his head and buries his face in the juncture of Elias’s neck and shoulder, mouthing at the skin of his throat. Elias’s breathing hitches and he grabs Brock’s shoulder, trying to get him to hurry up. 

“Okay, okay,” Brock grumbles and he carries Elias the rest of the way to the bedroom and tosses him onto the mattress before stripping off his shirt. Elias props himself up on his elbows to watch the flex of his muscles, tracing a path down from Brock’s collarbones to the cut of his hips. Brock’s hands pause at his waistband and he clears his throat. Elias snaps his eyes back up to his face immediately. “Are you just going to watch?”

Elias wouldn’t exactly be _ opposed. _ Still, he wants to touch, wants to _ be _ touched, so he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head. He works at his pants, trying to get them off without having to stand up. Brock crawls onto the bed and lies beside him, supporting himself on one elbow to watch Elias get his pants off. 

By the time Elias has thrown his pants off somewhere into the room, Brock is tracing lines slowly on Elias’s chest, making him shake. When both of them are naked, Brock rolls on top of Elias, slotting a thigh between his legs and kissing him firmly. 

“Mmph,” Elias says as Brock takes Elias’s hips and pulls him firmly against Brock’s thigh. Elias’s thighs twitch at the feeling of dry skin on his dick, but he can’t help but chase the sensation, desperate for friction. “Brock,” he says, his voice breaking on a whine when Brock sucks a mark into his throat. 

“You okay?” Brock asks, holding himself up on his elbows so he can look at Elias properly. 

“Yeah, I’m okay, I just,” Elias casts his mind out for a word in English, “it’s so much.” 

Brock brushes his fingertips over Elias’s cheek and into his hair, lightly scratching his fingernails over his scalp. Elias manages to calm down a bit, releasing a shuddery breath and loosening his hands on Brock’s shoulders. There are pale crescents in Brock’s skin where his nails dug in too hard. Elias runs his fingers over the marks. 

“Elias,” Brock says, then seems to lose the thread of what he wanted to say, ducking his head to kiss Elias instead. He rests his right hand on Elias’s chest, right over his heart. Elias grasps for it, tangling their fingers together tightly. A tether for him to hang onto. 

They make out for a while, long enough that Elias wonders if they’ll just grind against each other until they come like they’re teenagers, but he has Brock’s hand in his and there’s no game tomorrow, so he presses Brock back gently. Brock looks at him, a question in his eyes, and Elias points wordlessly to his bedside table. 

He watches, heart pounding in his throat, as Brock crawls over to open the drawer and pull out the small bottle. He hears Brock suck in a sharp breath before he turns around to look at Elias again, eyes wide. 

“I don’t have any condoms,” Elias says, a little awkward, “but, um. Your hands, I don’t know, I just want—” He cuts himself off, blushing furiously. “You don’t have to. I thought. Uh.”

“You want me to finger you?” Brock says bluntly, and Elias’s heart almost stops. 

“Yes,” he manages, a tiny knot of nervousness twisting in his belly. He takes a deep breath. 

Brock crosses the space between them and presses a kiss to Elias’s forehead, soothing. Elias smiles helplessly. Brock always knows how to make him feel better. 

“Have you done it before?” Brock asks. Elias stares, distracted, as Brock flips the cap on the lube before he snaps out of it. 

“Just myself.” Elias stares at the ceiling, embarrassed at his inexperience. “I don’t think I’m, uh. Very good at it.” 

“That’s okay.” Brock grins, slicking his fingers and setting aside the bottle. He pushes Elias’s legs apart, makes him gasp by stroking his other hand over his dick, then he settles back on top of Elias and kisses him gently. He breaks off and kisses Elias’s neck, just below his ear. “You’ll learn.”

Elias just has time to process what that means, his eyes going wide and his mouth trying to form Brock’s name, then Brock presses a finger against his hole and he gasps. The lube is still cold, colder than he expected. Brock doesn’t push in right away. He rubs over Elias’s skin, making him relax, loosen up, then he slips the first finger inside.

It isn’t exactly _ unfamiliar, _ because it isn’t the first time Elias has had a finger in his ass, but it’s different because this time, it’s not _ his _ finger. More importantly, it’s _ Brock’s _ finger. Elias shivers a little. One finger isn’t enough for him to feel a stretch, but it’s enough that he can feel it.

Brock is very diligent about working his finger in as slowly as possible, constantly watching Elias’s face for the slightest change in expression. Elias clutches at the sheets. His palms are sweating, slipping against the blankets.

After taking his time fucking Elias with one finger, Brock finally presses another alongside it. Like the first time, he teases at his hole until Elias relaxes before pushing in. 

This time, Elias arches his back into the sensation, the slight burn fading quickly into something much more satisfying. Making a soft noise in the back of his throat, Elias rocks his hips in tiny movements, trying to chase the feeling of Brock’s fingers inside him. 

“Brock,” he says, closing his eyes and pushing his head back into the pillow. His throat works and Brock leans down to kiss the spot where he’d left a hickey earlier. 

“You’re so,” Brock says, but he seems unable to finish and curls his fingers instead. 

Elias’s legs jerk as he feels something almost electric rush up his spine. His eyes snap open and he sees Brock grinning at him smugly.

“I—” Elias starts, but Brock rubs his fingers over that spot again and Elias loses his train of thought.

Brock strokes his thumb over the thin skin of Elias’s inner thigh. 

“Do you want another?” Brock asks, pressing a third finger to Elias’s hole. Not trying to push in, just _ there _ enough that Elias can feel it, know what he means. 

“Please,” Elias says. Under different circumstances, Elias might be embarrassed that he’s pretty much begging for it, but Brock has two fingers against his prostate and Elias can’t really think straight. 

Brock wastes no time before pushing it inside. He keeps the pressure steady but slow until all three of his fingers are completely inside. Elias can’t seem to stop shaking. His fists open and close around the sheets until Brock takes one of them in his own hand, lacing their fingers together and pressing Elias’s hand down against the bed. 

Elias squeezes Brock’s hand as Brock slides his fingers out almost all the way, then back in. He gasps as Brock spreads his fingers a little, then tilts his wrist to angle at Elias’s prostate more easily. 

Once Brock finds his rhythm, he sticks with it, fucking Elias with his fingers steady and confident. Elias can feel the familiar heat building low in his belly and he reaches for his dick with his free hand.

“Wait,” Brock says, his movement not even faltering. “Can you come like this?” 

Elias feels like the slightest brush of fingers over his dick would be enough to bring him over right now. He shudders, rocking back against Brock’s hand, and it builds and builds and builds until suddenly he’s tipping over the edge with a choked cry. Brock works him through it, stroking over his prostate until it’s too much and then a little longer. 

By the time Brock pulls his fingers out, Elias’s eyelashes are wet.

“Brock,” he says, his voice breaking. Brock pulls him close, letting Elias tuck his face into his neck and come down. He strokes Elias’s back with his clean hand and kisses the side of his head. It takes a second, but Elias feels the press of Brock’s erection against his hip and he pulls back, pushing Brock down against the mattress. Brock raises an eyebrow and Elias moves down his body until he’s level with Brock’s dick. He licks his lips.

“Oh, sh—ngk,” Brock says eloquently as Elias takes his dick in his mouth without preamble.

It’s not the best blowjob Elias has ever given, not that the list is extensive, but given that he still hasn’t regained all fine motor control, he thinks he’s doing alright. It helps that Brock was already so close that Elias hardly has to do anything before Brock’s fingers are tightening in his hair and he’s coming in Elias’s mouth. Elias swallows, not letting the taste linger, then he crawls up Brock’s body and lets Brock hold him.

“We should shower,” Elias says after a while, once the come on his stomach has cooled and feels pretty gross. He can feel Brock nod against his shoulder, his fingers still tracing patterns on Elias’s hip.

“Mm,” Brock agrees. He finds Elias’s hand and links their fingers together over Elias’s belly, curling closer against his back. “In a bit. I like being here with you.” 

Elias can’t say anything to that. After all, Brock is very good at snuggling. The shower can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> haha... this is twice as long as i expected it to be!
> 
> [tumblr](https://symphony7inamajor.tumblr.com)


End file.
